You Snuck Your Way Right Into My Heart
by MandNwriterzz
Summary: Natasha loves Steve, is in love with him, and it will definitely be the death of him. Romanogers.
1. Chapter 1

Maybe the Taser was a lucky charm, because everything went wrong whenever Darcy Lewis ventured out of her residence without it.

She was currently on a short vacation in London, snapping pictures of every cool monument she saw. She had just gotten off the phone with her best friend and her kind-of boss, Jane Foster, who was gushing about her newest discovery in astrophysics or whatever. Political science was more of Darcy's thing.

Darcy had also grabbed a coffee cup from the nearest cafe, wondering how the hell England had coffee if it was more of a tea place. She fixed her magenta colored beanie covering the top part of her long night-black hair and slung her bag over her shoulder. She inhaled the fresh air, which was moist from the tang of incoming rain. Today was a great day.

That is, until her rented car blew up.

The force of the blast sent the black-haired woman flying through the air, arms pinwheeling in vain and her stomach flipping upside down. The sickening slap of fresh flesh hitting the concrete was muted by the boom of the explosion. Darcy heard the unwelcome sound of a crack and winced in pain at her broken wrist.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath, gazing wistfully at her used-to-be intact car, which was now in metal scraps scattering the dark road, with dark blue eyes. "My insurance is _so_ _not_ going to cover that."

A dark figure darted past a building and Darcy whipped her head around so fast she almost got whiplash. She did not think she had ever experienced such pain in her life, contemplating on the damage of her wrist and currently her leg. Her life had been so short, just twenty one years. That very short time that will end in just a matter of seconds.

This is definitely not the first time she had faced down a brush with death, but this is the first time she had felt it, the heavy weight of the impending knowledge of doom that was about to befall upon the dark-haired girl.

Dragging herself behind another car and ignoring the screams of people, Darcy managed to draw her cell phone out of her pocket, but her heart sank to the bottom of her feet in a fast freefall when she noticed the large and deep crack through the screen. Just her luck.

Then he was looming over her, a large and hulking shadow of doom crossing over her pale skin. She jerked upwards, snagging her plump bottom lip between her upper teeth to bite down the hot lash of pain travelling through her body.

It was him. The Winter Soldier.

She had heard about him from Steve and Natasha's adventure in Washington D.C., but the information was vague beyond he was a cold-blooded and emotionless assassin. He was imposing and intimidating as any Grim Reaper, just like the red-haired spy had described. But if he was here to steal her soul, Darcy was damn sure she wasn't going to give it up willingly.

Her breath came out in long and hard pants, her chest heaving up and down every two seconds. She attempted to sit up, straightening her back up into a slanted version of ramrod straight. She was not going to cower in the face of death. She had to take it willingly. At least Darcy would go down with dignity then.

The Winter Soldier studied her face carefully, long brown hair framing in his face, his left metal arm shining in the dull sunlight because of the metallic silver sheen, his whole pale face concealed behind a large black mask leaving his eyes, eyes as blue as ice and carrying a coldness far more severe than the frostiest glacier. They were hard and glinting, barely human, not a trace of anything besides a scalpel sharp and snakelike intelligence. He was beautiful the way a forest fire was beautiful, someone that needed to be admired from afar. A very far distance away.

There was no mercy.

"Are you going to kill me?" Darcy demanded abruptly, her voice slightly tremoring. As much as she didn't want to die, the waiting for the strike to be made, it was _unbearable_ that it was taking so long. Was he going to end her suffering short and quick, or was he going to drag it out, slow and painfully?

The Winter Soldier just gazed down at her, nothing being given away. "Aren't you going to beg for your life then?" he countered back at her, and his voice was cold and hard as stone, matching his mysterious appearance and demeanor.

For a brief flash of a moment, Darcy desperately wanted to back down, to beg and plead for her life to be taken mercifully, but the want soon evaporated as she steeled herself, ocean-blue eyes hardening like glass, teeth gritted, shoulders back and chin up.

"No," she replied quietly, and her beanie flew off her head, letting her mane of night colored waves spill over her shoulders and mix with the scarlet lines form the scratches near her neck. She was proud that her voice didn't tremble this time. She transformed her voice with a clearing of her throat, making it sound impatient and trying to mask her complete terror that was making her heart thunder against her chest. "Well?" she spat. "Come on. Get through with it already!"

She could not see his mouth, as it was masked by the black cover up, but a frosty smile gleamed in his ice-blue orbs. It was neither nice nor merciful, yet he told her, "Not today."

He was gone before she could blink an eyelash, materializing into the air like a ghost. Darcy's whole body was shaking, but she stared after him in horrified fascination, unsure what the hell had just happened. But the one thing she was certain of made her almost sick to her stomach.

This was not the last she was going to see of the Winter Soldier.

* * *

><p>Steve Rogers heard another door slam shut and he looked up from the sketchbook in his lap. No one emerged from the hallway, though it was clearly obvious another fight had rose up between the couple down the hall. Tony Stark, who was sitting in front of him on the other piece of furniture, viewed the clock and clapped his hands together.<p>

"Whoo hoo!" he whooped cheerfully, jumping up to his feet. "Pepper, time is up! Present the food!"

Pepper Potts, Tony's girlfriend, walked out of the other room with her hands placed on her dainty hips. "Keep your voice down, Tony, or you won't get any of the fried chicken," she snapped and the dark haired billionaire walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Come on, Peps. Dinner would be no fun without me."

"I so very much doubt that," Maria Hill called out from her position hear the window. She was wearing her shoulder-length brown hair down, a rare thing for the secret agent and Steve thought it looked pretty on her.

"You and me both, sister," grinned Sam Wilson and she grinned back, making Steve hide a small smile. Ever since he invited Sam to live there on a floor with the rest of the Avengers, he had this huge flirtation every free minute of the day with the dark-haired agent on the floor beneath.

Bruce Banner slightly smiled. "We should get to the dinner table before Thor gobbles down all the food," he suggested and everyone proceeded towards the dining table, which was teeming with fresh gourmet, bottles of champagne and polished china and silver cutlery.

Tony sank down into his chair languidly. "The best dinner a billionaire can ever have," he sighed deeply.

"I hope you're not giving me only twelve percent of the credit since I made all of the food," Pepper quipped.

"An argument could have been made for fifteeen, remember?"

Pepper just pecked on the cheek sweetly and Maria, sitting between Steve and Sam, pretended to gag, which the Captain looked sternly at while the Falcon chuckled. Pepper began to sit down in the empty seat next to Steve, but he laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Oh, no, Pepper," he told her. "I'm saving that for someone. Sorry."

The blonde gave a strangely knowing smile, nodded and skipped over to the other seat next to Tony's. Steve almost blushed at her knowledege of why he saved the seat for a certain someone. And totally ignored the amused looks Maria and Sam were both sending him.

"Excellent, Lady Pepper, at your cookings fit for a god!" praised Thor, bolting into the room and sitting down in his chair so fast Maria had to reach out a hand to steady it, her spy muscles kicking in at the god's bulky weight. His girlfriend, Jane Foster, entered the room in a red dress and her hair twisted up.

"Good evening, everyone," she greeted, perching herself in a chair next to Thor. Everyone around the table was dressed in a formal, black-tie way for the guest of honor, who was too busy necking his blonde girlfriend.

"To the birthday boy," the brunette next to the Captain grumbled under her breath, raising her glass of fizzy champagne to clink against Steve's, who sipped in a small sip with his lips until he almost choked on his drink.

"Oh, Romanoff, so nice of you to join us so early!" Tony noted sarcastically, shooting a glare across the distance between him and the table and the entryway of the hallway, where an all-too-familiar red-haired woman was lurking by with a hand clasped around the glass trim of the entryway.

Natasha Romanoff was looking simply stunning with her long, thick mane of fiery hair straightened, looking sleek and shiny whenever it swayed, and wearing a dress that skimmed the top of her knees, had slightly curved short sleeves covering her shoulders and a solid black, skin tight dress under the shimmering bottle green gauze on top of it. Steve stopped his jaw from hitting the floor.

Maria's face swelled with pity, voice lowering to barely a whisper as she leaned in to voice her thoughts in the Captain's face. "Poor her," she said, and Steve slightly turned to look at her oddly through the corner of his eye. She continued as Natasha came closer towards the table. "They've been fighting again, her and Clint. It's been going on for months now."

"She hasn't talked about it," the sandy-haired man replied back, but then he rolled his eyes at himself mentally. This was Natasha. She never, ever talked about what was going on inside her head. It was so frustrating at times.

"Where's Barton?" questioned the birthday billionaire, staring inquisitively at Natasha, who looked pained.

"He's . . . changing," she said in a hesitant, strained voice. She looked around the table coolly with her eyes, a shade that wasn't blue nor green, but a gorgeous color in between.

Steve raised a hand to beckon her over to him. "Here, Nat," he called. "I saved you a seat."

For a moment, the redhead stayed frozen in her place, but then she quickly crossed the distance around them in an arc and sank down into the chair. She looked at Steve with a glimmer of gratefulness present in her eyes, which Steve could now see were slightly puffy and bloodshot. Maria had been right. A rush of anger streaked through the Captain, but he pushed it down with a load of self restraint. "Thanks, Rogers," she whispered, grabbing a champagne glass and clinking it against his. Their eyes never left each other's as they drank.

"So, Romanoff," Tony said again, leaning forward on his hands, chin cupped in the cradle of his laced fingers. "What did you get me for my birthday?" He waggled his eyebrows before Pepper stepped on his foot under the table. "Ow! Calm down, Peps. She's probably saving all the action for the Cap, right?" He winked and the red-haired woman and the man next to him stared at him, horrified.

"Excuse me?" Steve demanded, hating that his voice was stuttering uncontrollably. Natasha didn't seem to notice, though.

"I'm with Clint, Stark," she rolled her eyes and Steve's heart plummeted down the pitch-black, endless chasm of his body. _Yes, Clint . . . Yippee._

"Yeah, right. Whatever," Tony muttered under his breath. He glanced over at the sandy-haired Captain and sent him a disbelieving look that probably meant, _Can you believe this woman? _Steve didn't know how to acknowledge that positively, so he just ignored it and continued sipping on his drink, despite knowing he could never get drunk.

Maybe it was a lazy thing on the universe's part, because two seconds afterward, Natasha'a current boyfriend, the skilled and rough-around-the-edges archer, Clint Barton sauntered into the living room. He was wearing dark clothes, of course, and there was a tense undercurrent rippling under his muscles as his rainwater gray eyes, dark with clouds of fatigue, circled around the room and back, fixing themselves directly on Steve and narrowing to slits at his arm's proximity to the redhead's. He immediately scooted the said body part away.

"Good evening," he managed to greet in a gruff voice, seating himself next to Banner.

"Aren't _you_ going to wish me happy birthday, Legolas?" pouted Tony again. He was seriously not getting and certainly not enjoying this lack of celebration on his special day. Alas, at least Pepper cared about him and that was all he needed for now.

"Yeah, happy whatever," Clint started, slacking off in the end of the sentence.

"Jeez, what do you two do in your rooms?" Tony's dark brown eyes flicked between the archer and the spy curiously, like he always did when he was going to transform a perfectly good evening with lots of potential into an embarrassing situation where Natasha ended up flinging a large plate at the dark-haired man's head.

"Nothing special," Natasha brushed off in a cool and nonchalant voice. Steve's dark blue eyes sought her out, but she immediately avoided eye contact.

"Mm hmm," grunted the dark-haired archer in response, still looking bored.

"I so don't believe you. Come on, Romanoff, we all know you're in it for the sex. Or was it because what happened in Bu-da-pest?" Tony stretched out the last word in a sing song voice, the tone grating against the arguing couple's nerves and most likely ignoring all the warning stares Pepper, Maria and even Sam were shooting at him dangerously.

"That's it," the Captain heard the red-haired woman mutter under her breath in a furious whisper and she rammed her hands into the side of the table, pushing herself away from the table, sleek black heels clacking on the floor determinedly, and the Avengers' faces filled with confusion, especially Tony, who Maria glared at since this was entirely his fault.

Jane, who was probably desperate to escape, quickly answered her ringing phone. "Hello? Whoa, whoa, Darcy . . . Calm down." She exited the room to hear her anxious friend's troubles.

Clint was so busy pointing a murderous glower at the dark-haired guest of honor that he, or anyone else for that matter, didn't notice Steve sneak away from the table and follow after Natasha.

"Natasha, wait!" he whisper-shouted after the darting head of red hair. She was about to make it to her room when Steve managed to latch a hand around her bicep firmly, wheeling her around and gazing deep into her eyes. He could see and tell that she was going to cry from the memories lingering in her head right now.

"What's going on?" he asked in a soft, reassuring voice and Natasha tried to pry his fingers away from her skin, desperately attempting to ignore the jolts of fierce electricity prickling pleasurably against her skin. Her eyes met his, that ocean of cerulean blue that always took her breath away, which made her heart sing instead of making her feel invaded. She felt safe with Steve. She would always feel . . .

She whirled her head away, furious at her own desires. No. She could never express those feelings, knowing how it would affect her and everyone else very badly, like the_ death _kind-of-badly. Like Clint, herself, Tony (since he'll make fun obviously), and most importantly, Steve . . . But he shouldn't have been the most important in the first place.

"Nothing," she said, finally ripping away and slamming the door shut to her room. After a few minutes, Steve gently knocked.

"Come on, Nat," he called. "You can talk about this with me. I'm always going to be here for you, you hear?" Silence. "Natasha?"

After another couple minutes of waiting, Steve finally opened the door and nearly had a heart attack.

Amidst a scene of sharp shards of broken, glittering glass scattering the floor along with blood splatter and the gaping hole in the floor-to-ceiling window, the most _vital_ thing was _missing_, _gone_, _vanished_ into thin air.

_Natasha._

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><p><strong>AN: Don't own anything. Kind of AU. Summary belongs to chalantness. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Clint demanded, rainwater gray eyes blazing with bottled up rage at the Captain. Steve sighed out an exasperated breath for the umpteenth time. He had repeated Natasha's disappearance so many times that he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, even thought there was a perfectly good piece of evidence in the missing redhead's room.

"I mean that she is gone, Barton," he repeated, jumping to his feet and off the couch. He paced around the living room several times, so fast and hard that it was a wonder there was no trace of a burning carpet stench.

"How could you let her get kidnapped?"

Steve turned on him so fast it was incredible. "I didn't let her get kidnapped! I was respecting her privacy."

"Uh huh." The archer's words were only driven by his anger and he wasn't thinking clearly and straightly, but neither was the sandy haired man in front of him. Sam stepped in between them, pushing them apart.

"Guys, guys," he chided quietly. "Calm down. We're never going to find Natasha if we keep arguing."

"He's right," backed up Maria from her spot on the chair, fingers laced together in a death tight grip. "If you two stop fighting, Stark may be able to find something that could have seen what happened."

"Stark," the Falcon nodded at Maria and then faced the dark haired billionaire, who was very busy sliding his fingers across the touch screen of his huge super computer slash television screen. "You keep bragging about being able to watch Natasha walking around her room in her underwear. That means you have security cameras in there, right?" Despite the inappropriateness of the comment, the suggestion was logical.

Tony looked over his shoulder with a rueful smirk. "I wasn't technically lying since yes, I do have security cameras in every room, but no worries, Capsicle and Legolas, I never lay my eyes on the screen of them. Though, in person was an entirely different situation."

"Pervert!" Pepper slugged him in the arm angrily from her position beside him. He rubbed the spot carefully.

"I'm kidding!"

Thor then sauntered into the room along with Banner. "We laid down a half mile radius around the Tower," explained Banner, looking at the floor in shame. Thor spoke up, though, for him.

"I'm sorry," he replied, staring around the room of people with electric blue orbs darkened by sadness and grief. "There was no sign of Lady Natasha."

"But?" Sam raised his eyebrows. Everyone could sense there was something underlying the god of thunder's sentence.

The scientist cleared his throat beside him. "What he forgot to mention was . . ." His voice was halting and unsure, unsure if he should tell about what they had found because they would all blow a gasket, but he had to. "We found that most of outside was destroyed."

"What?!"

_See? I was right_, Banner snapped at himself mentally, but he continued anyways, "There were damaged cars, bullet holes, the smell of sulphur. Looked like a huge gun battle went down there."

Steve's face grew taut with even more stress. "A gun battle?" he repeated.

"You mean Natasha could be-" Clint began nervously, until the Captain cut him off abruptly.

"No. We can't allow ourselves to think that way."

"Look, Cap," said Tony. "I know you went in on a whim that your best friend was still alive and charged over to save him, but this isn't 1945. We have to think things through."

Everyone was shocked at the dark haired man's maturity on the situation, but the moment didn't last long. Maria's bright blue eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Natasha could be dead," she exclaimed angrily, and everybody else winced under their breaths at the terrible thought, "or in the hands of some maniac or fiend-" She trailed off for a moment, her eyes widening in realization. "No, it couldn't be . . ."

The dark haired archer seemed to catch on and his teeth ground together ferociously. "That son of a bitch," he cursed.

"No, no, no, no," Tony dismissed, waving his hands around dramatically once he caught on to what the two S.H.I.E.L.D agents were implying. "How the hell would Loki escape Asgard?"

"I assure you, Loki is definitely still in prison in Asgard," Thor nodded vigorously, agreeing with Tony.

"Yeah. Besides, this isn't Loki's style." The dark haired man paced around the room as well, pausing for a moment to gaze out of the window onto the twinkling lights of the city, dark brown eyes glistening with comprehension. "Why would he smash through a window when he could just do that cloning thing of his? If Loki did escaped, though I'm positive he didn't," he added before continuing, "he would totally snatch the Tesseract Glow Stick of Destiny before he left, so the whole window should have been vaporized."

"He's got a point," agreed Pepper.

"Exactly," her boyfriend boasted proudly, puffing out his chest for a moment. "And Loki is a full out diva, as I have mentioned before. And he despises all of us, so he would have kidnapped Natasha in broad daylight, right in front of us so that he could get a fight or rub it in our faces, right?"

"Mm hmm," Banner hummed and leaned back. "What about any other enemies? What if this is linked to you, Clint?"

Clint looked up from his gaze on the carpet. "I don't recall any enemies who would go so far to kidnap my girlfriend," he grunted snarkily.

"Okay, not much help from you there." Tony turned back to the screen and wiped his brow.

"This does look a bit like HYDRA, though, don't ya think?" Sam suggested, his dark eyes flicking between Steve and Maria, the only ones who understood what he was grabbing on to. Steve couldn't believe it.

"Fury did say that a lot of the HYDRA agents didn't go down with their ship," Maria agreed in a slow voice. "But they're in hiding, at least. HYDRA are much neater than this."

The Captain nodded, pushing away all jittery and anxious thoughts about Natasha's safety in jeopardy. "Hill's also got a point. This could have been an ordered abduction."

"Yes, but by who?" the dark haired man at the computer said in a mysterious voice, wheeling his head over his shoulder with a movie star perfect eyebrow raise at all of them.

"It could be one of _Natasha's_ own enemies," Banner specified the new idea.

"Yeah, which narrows it down to a few hundred organizations, Bruce. Thanks a lot," Tony responded in a sarcastic snap. "She's the Black Widow, remember? She's got a list of enemies as big as the phone book."

Clint was about to make his own comment when Jane rushed into the room, face filled with anxiety. Thor looked at her. "Jane, what is it?" he prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"That was Darcy," she explained in a trembling voice. "She said she just got attacked by a Winter Soldier."

* * *

><p>Natasha's head was heavy.<p>

She barely managed to recall the last few events that had happened in her memory's hard drive, then it all whooshed down on her in a raging flood of images. She remembered how enraged and hurt she felt about the words exchanged at dinner and even before in her fight with Clint. She had slammed the door in Steve's face, not wanting his consolation. The redhead had then spun around and sank down to the floor, back scraping along the door. She had buried her face in her hands for a moment when her spy senses pricked up at the tingling sixth sense of another presence inside her room.

She had looked up slowly for her aqua blue orbs to meet those cold, lifeless icy blue eyes.

The Winter Soldier had been sitting right in her bedroom.

The red haired woman hadn't know how to respond, so she remained frozen for a minute, just gazing deep into those vacant eyes. He had stayed as still as a statue as well, perched on the chair at the desk, face shrouded in dark, cloudy shadows, mask removed. The dark brown hair framed his face almost softly.

"So, we just going to sit here or do you want to get started?" she finally admitted, pretending to sound bored. She noticed the metal arm that crept back into the shadows clench its fist and she knew he was going to strike soon. So she made the first move.

She grabbed the gun hidden next to her. She had guns concealed in every nook and cranny of her room, of course. She didn't know what to curse: The Winter Soldier's sharp and lightning speedy reflexes or the soundproof walls of Stark Tower. The bullet ricocheted off the shiny metal of his arm and he flipped easily across the room and encircled his hand around her slim, pale throat, throttling her. She made gasping and choking nosies, clawing at his slim, cool fingers. Air was squeezed straight out of her windpipe.

Natasha was nearly out of air when she delivered a kick directly at his crotch. Obviously aware to that pain, his grip loosened and Natasha broke free, bolting across the room and grabbing her heavy, chunky weapons belt off the dresser and hooking it on before the Winter Soldier charged again, wrapping his arms around her waist and throwing her to the floor.

The red haired spy kicked, unaware of the dull sting near her forehead. She barely noticed the blood dripping everywhere on her white carpet. She snatched her gun from the spot near her and fired more bullets at the person holding her down. He managed to block off all of them and gripped her waist again before smashing the glass window to bits as they plummeted down to the road.

It was all a blur from there. Natasha recalled fighting out of his grip, the sound of gunshots and bullets chiming off surfaces, the rumbling of explosion beneath her and the stench of burning sulphur clouding her nostrils. Hiding behind cars and aiming and firing . . .

Until the Winter Soldier attacked her from behind, sending a hard blow to her head. She still managed to shake it off until he aimed a gun at her and three darts injected sharply into her neck, shooting the tranquilizer fluid through her veins. The Winter Soldier then heaved her up and carried her off to . . .

To where?

Natasha peeled open her heavy eyelids to meet a dimly lit room. It was lit up by one bluish white lightbulb and her back was lying flat on a lumpy mattress. She looked down to see that she was now wearing a classic clean white gown, cinched at the waist with another shiny silver belt, with flared sleeves and even hood. Matching white boots hugged her feet.

The redhead leaped to her feet and immediately faced the door. Who cared about her outfit? She was captured, alright, but no way was she staying. She pulled the door handle down. Obviously, it didn't give. She looked around the room and saw the comb on a dressing table. Grabbing it, she set to work on shaping it into a lockpick. She had learned these tricks when being trained as a KGB spy.

After a long time of picking at the heavy silver lock at the door, it finally clicked open, not that it was a surprise. Natasha creaked the door and peeked an eye through. The coast was clear for now.

She easily crept down the hallway and flipped around the corner. Still no one in sight. It was almost her lucky day. Until she heard the shuffling of rapid footsteps and hushed whispering. Uh oh. They knew she was gone.

Jogging down the hall, she slipped in one of the rooms flanking it and closed the door silently. Backing into the room, she was out of breath because this place looked way too familiar. Her green eyes scanned the room, but her eyes settled on the cell phone on the table.

She had to contact someone. But who? The red haired spy racked her brain, but the same choice kept flashing in her head. Letting her desires get the better of her, she hacked into the phone and dialed in numbers.

* * *

><p>It had been two nights since Natasha disappeared and Steve just lied on the couch, thinking to himself about what could have happened if he had just opened the goddamn door. His thoughts were interrupted sharply by the musical ringtone of his cell phone. He noted that it was his Skype account. Something he never used, yet had an abundance of contacts on.<p>

The name labeled on the screen compelled him to answer the call immediately.

"Natasha?" he asked in almost disbelief. But once the screen transformed from darkness to the real picture, he almost laughed with relief. Natasha's beautiful face was in the camera's view and she looked very worried and scared.

"Hey, Cap," she answered in a hoarse and shaky voice, managing a watery, tight lipped smile for him. She felt so relieved to see his face again one last time.

"What happened? Where are you?" Steve demanded gently yet urgently. He wanted to find her and keep her safe again.

The redhead's blue green eyes darkened with shadows as they darted around the room she was currently. "Uh, I'm not sure, Steve."

"Well, are you still in New York?" Tony had finally entered the room and Steve beckoned to the computer, their signal for if a ransom call occurred, they could somehow trace it. The dark haired man got the message and zoomed over, typing away.

"I don't think so. It's okay if you-"

"That's not a problem, Nat. I'll come and get you no matter where you are, okay?" he assured devoutly. He hoped he sounded assuring. Thank God Tony was doing something instead of making remarks.

Natasha managed a nervous grin. "I'm a big girl, Cap." She then cringed and Steve felt a sickening wave hit his stomach. "They're coming."

"Natasha, get out of there. Now!" he ordered. "We'll find you. I'll find you, no worries." Natasha nodded and dropped the phone, clattering on the dark carpet and darkening the camera's lens. "I'll always find you," murmured Steve under his breath to nobody in particular. He looked over at Tony, who was staring at the screen with wide, bewildered eyes.

"What?"

"That can't be right," the other man shook his head.

"What, Stark?"

"The call came from a phone, so it had to use a phone tower. This phone tower was located in . . ." He took a deep breath. "Budapest, Hungary."

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><p><strong>AN: Don't own anything. Action will start up in later chapters. Please be patient. And review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own anything, definitely not Marvel.**

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><p>Sam, with a deep sigh, grasped the cold, silver handle of the door for his room and swung it open widely, unveiling the solid surface between him and Steve, who was staring at him with earnest dark, almost navy blue eyes sparkling brightly with hopefulness. The other man sighed agin, totally expecting what he was going to say to him.<p>

"This is a bad idea," Sam told the Captain, even though he knew fairly well he wasn't going to listen to him.

"You didn't even know what I was going to say!" Steve claimed innocently, spreading his palms apart. But the point was so obvious with his dark blue and black backpack hung on his shoulders, the blue and red spangly uniform and shield in tow.

The Falcon proceeded to stride out of the doorjamb, a you-can't-fool-me-with-that-shit look present on his handsome features. "Brother, it is pretty damn obvious you're going to Budapest to save Natasha," he snapped, crossing his arms.

"Actually," pointed out a male voice next to him matter-of-factly and Sam spun his head to face Clint Barton, who was wearing a look of matching determination that was also evident on Steve's face. The archer continued while twirling a long and slender arrow between his fingers, "He was going to say that _we _were."

Sam then delivered a glare towards the sandy haired man in front of him and Steve shrugged, looking nonchalant on the outside. "He is Natasha's boyfriend," he said, but the Falcon could tell he had been reluctant about the idea.

"Well, let me tell you why I won't go," Sam announced loudly and tugged Steve away from a confused Clint and leaned in close so that he wouldn't hear them. "Dude, that guy is the lover of your true love. You can't expect me to accompany you if you're taking him. You can't be in your right mind, then."

"Look, I don't care if he cares," the blond Captain retorted back stubbornly. "As long as we get Natasha back."

"I do hope that's the royal 'we'," quipped Sam sarcastically, receiving a tired look in return from Steve. "What? He's going to get all the credit, man!" Sam had to make sure his voice was low and he didn't gesture wildly toward Clint, using up a lot of self control.

"Come on. Pretty please?"

"There is absolutely nothing pretty about this," Sam shook his head, raising his voice now to Clint's earshot, and the corners of the archer's mouth quirked up in a brief, snarky smile.

"Oh really?" he challenged. "Why don't you say hello to our number four?"

"Hey, I am not number three here!" protested the Falcon in a brusque voice. "And even if I was, what dumbass would actually join you in your little impromptu rescue mission?"

"This dumbass." All of the men wheeled around to face the person addressing them. It was Maria Hill. Sam's mouth fell open, immediately regretting what he had said.

Of course he was.

"Oh, not you too, Maria," he grumbled, staring up at the ceiling.

"Tell you what," Maria suggested with a sincere smile, though wanting to get this thing started. "You help them with the mission and you can take me out for a drink afterwards." She raised her palms up. "What do you say?"

Sam only thought for a second of two before saying, "You got yourself a date. It's a done deal." He bowed his head to confirm it. While they chuckled to each other, Clint shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"Jesus, if this was what it took to get Falcon to tag along, we'd already be on the jet," he muttered under his breath and Steve shrugged again. Sam stopped chuckling and spun around on his heel, dark brown eyes wide with surprise.

"What jet?"

* * *

><p>"There's only one organization who would kidnap Natasha and have their facility, creepy headquarters, whatever in Budapest," explained Clint darkly, his brows furrowed in concentration as he slammed down the button for the invisibility cloak over the jet as they closed in on a particular darkened area. "Red Room. They're basically the Russian version of HYDRA, but worse. They experiment on people, wanting to make the super spies and take over the world by tearing it down.<p>

"Sounds like HYDRA," muttered Steve under his breath.

"Worse."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Sam questioned from the backseat, poking his head on top of the console, peering up at the two people who held Natasha's heart dearly through his red-lensed goggles.

"Hold on," Clint commanded as they landed quietly, not causing any attention. He tapped his communication link at his earbud. "Hill, got our whereabouts?"

"Roger that, Barton," she replied. "Stark has been distracted for now with the Pepper Scare." The men slightly chuckled. Maria then added, "There are some figures moving toward you."

"Perfect."

* * *

><p>Red Room was a lot like HYDRA. But nothing was making Steve's skin crawl so far. Clint looked at him, probably distasteful due to his comment afterward.<p>

"Stop standing up so straight," he hissed at him through his black helmet. "No one's gonna believe we're Red Room troops if you act so soldier-like."

"Sorry," Steve replied. They had managed to snag two Red Room uniforms, which completely masked their faces and build so they all looked the same among the trickle of troops filing in and out of the long, made of sleek black marble halls. They snuck in past security, but Steve didn't have time to make mental notes of what Red Room's base looked like since they had a mission.

"Shut up and someone hit me," commanded Sam under his breath, walking in step with them, in between them. He wasn't in a uniform, but kept his Falcon costume. The other men had a grip on either of his muscled arms, marching him down the hallway. Clint had explained how he had been in there before, probably for his Budapest kill mission and Steve felt a little dumb for not being able to help and instead had to follow Clint's lead. He knew Natasha was most likely in the detention block, where they kept prisoners, so they had Sam in handcuffs, pretending to have captured a trespasser.

"What?" Clint possibly raised a confused eyebrow.

Sam wiggled in their grip and Steve got the point, so the concealed Captain punched his wrist. "Do not struggle," he ordered loudly. "Red Room does not allow fidgeters here. There'll be plenty of time to do that in your cell."

The archer obviously rolled his eyes and coughed out, "Too much."

They finally reached the screening room, where one of the generals wheeled around briskly. "What do you want?" he asked in a crisp and cool voice, colored by a thick Russian accent. His pale and beady eyes prodded at the guards with apathy.

"We have captured a prisoner, General," Clint responded in a monotone voice, and Steve didn't know if he should nod back or not, so he kept still.

"Take him to the detention block, obviously, you twits," dismissed the General, flipping a bored hand gesture at them and turning back around. Sam made a little fist pump and Steve slapped his hand again.

"Where's the detention block?" Sam whispered, quelling the urge to fix his large steel wing back into place.

"In the underground level, obviously." The three men filed into the elevator, the curved door sliding closed behind them. As the lift drifted slowly down, the handcuff loosened. Clint attempted to click them back together.

"This is a bad idea," snapped Steve.

"Why didn't you say so before?" Clint retorted, glaring from behind his visor.

"I did say so before."

Sam snorted. "Oh really?"

"I'm just saying these handcuffs are crap and we could get caught."

"Now he's finally coming back to his senses," smiled the Falcon.

"But we're still saving Natasha, no matter what," Steve added adamantly.

"Never mind."

But the elevator became enveloped with still, chilly silence when the door slid open again and in entered was . . .

Steve's breath caught and he had to bite down on his tongue from saying _Bucky? _again. Sure enough, the Winter Soldier was in the elevator as well and barely gave them a glance, blue eyes fixed ahead. Sam attempted to shield himself from view.

The Winter Soldier crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall and Steve blinked. That impatience, that boredom present on his face . . . It was just so _Bucky. _Could it be . . . ?

But the door opened again and Bucky exited the elevator. But he caught a glimpse of all of the men staring at him and they all averted their gaze. He didn't have time to get back in when he saw full view of Sam's face.

"Wait," was all he mumbled before the doors closed.

"We're doomed," Sam announced. "He's gonna ring the alarms and voila, our cover's blown."

"Shut up," muttered Clint when they heard the ding again. "We're here."

They left the elevator and crossed the threshold of the detention block, where a lone guard was perched on a chair, reading a magazine of all things. Steve and Sam nearly let their jaws fall to the floor. Clint peeled himself away from Sam and strode over to the guard, who only sent him a brief glance. Clint shot him with the gun at his side in the head, killing him instantly.

"Come on," he grunted. "We don't have a lot of time."

Sam ripped off the handcuffs and Clint heaved the helmet off his head. "Hill, we're in," he murmured while inserting something in the funky looking dashboard. "Can you hack in and find Natasha?"

A few minutes later, Clint nodded. "Okay, she's in this cell." He pointed his finger at the blinking white square on the dash. "I'll go and get-"

He was cut off by the sliding open of the elevator doors again and a few guards came into the lobby of the detention block. They froze for a small moment when they saw the rescuers, seeing Sam's free hands and Clint's bare, exposed face and Steve, still masked by uniform but looking like an accomplice. They seemed so genuinely surprised that Steve was now assured that Bucky hadn't ratted them out. Yet.

"Uh, s'up?" Sam waved his arm in greeting.

That was when they proceeded to fire bullets. Sam and Clint dived down under the dashboard while Steve retreated into the hallway, crouching down and out of view. Clint grabbed his bow and quiver full of arrows stored in his pack and slung a few into the bowstring, stabbing the guards' hearts easily.

"Cap, go!" Clint cried out, brandishing his hand forward down the hall behind his back. "We got this!"

"We do?!" exclaimed Sam incredulously.

Steve proceeded down the hall, which was flanked by several doors, almost an endless supply. More gunshots were heard and an impatient shout, "Hurry your ass up, Rogers!" from Clint, pretty much.

Yeah, they totally had this.

* * *

><p>Natasha had a massive headache. She was lying on her side, still wearing the thin white gown. Her face faced the door, in case any guards came by to give her food and she could throw in a good punch to spice her life up again from boredom. But now she was way too tired and her eyelids were drooping heavily over her sleepy green eyes. Her hair had lost its straightness and was now transforming back into long, shiny and fiery curls.<p>

Suddenly, the door zoomed open to the side, revealing a guard in pristine, sleek black uniform from head to toe. She just slid herself back up the wall of the long countertop of a bed and shot the guard a dubious and deceitful look.

"Aren't you a little too tall to be a Red Room trooper?" she quirked a dark brow, looking him up and down. The guard's head had tilted back a bit, meaning he must have been fascinated by her Sleeping Beauty position. Red Room disgusted her more and more. Now the guard seemed bewildered, but she couldn't tell by the dark mask.

"Huh?" the guard shot back, something a Red Room troop would never, ever say. Who the hell was this guy? He seemed to realize her strange curiosity and replied in revelation, "Oh, right! The mask." He wrenched it off, revealing a ruffled cropped cut of golden blond hair, gleaming, beautiful cobalt blue eyes and a shy, adorable, dimpled smile. This was definitely not a Red Room trooper. "Hey, Nat."

Natasha blinked her eyes a couple times and shook her head silently several times, trying to shake it off. Why the hell did the guard look a lot like Steve? "Steve?" she said in confusion, standing on her feet.

"Hey, we came to rescue you," he explained.

"Why?"

Steve stared back. "Uh, 'cause we're a team?"

"No, why'd you come?"

He took a while to answer and when he did, his voice was slow, cautious. "Because I'm your friend."

"Right. You came because we have some bromance." Natasha was about to roll her eyes when Steve said,

"Come on! Sam and Clint can't hold up much longer."

Her eyes widened and Steve thought she looked like a deer before it was about to get hit by a car, that sense of impending doom. "Clint's here, too? You idiots!" She pushed past him and into the lobby. Steve sighed heavily. Why'd he even mention Clint?

"Okay, we finished off- Hey, Romanoff," Sam greeted. Piles of bodies surrounded them. Natasha looked at the two other men with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.

"Do you actually have a clue what you're doing?" she demanded, throwing her hands up and glaring at them. "I was perfectly fine on my own."

"Natasha, you have been missing for two days," argued Clint.

"I can handle myself," she replied, sticking her face out and Steve separated them.

"Okay, okay. Let's just get out of here before-"

"Uh, Cap?" Sam whispered at his side, tapping him on the shoulder. Everyone wheeled around and froze instinctively. Bucky was standing in the hallway, blocking the closed elevator, just staring at them. No one made a move. They had their helmets off, so if Bucky had had any real suspicions, they were confirmed.

Everyone's eyes flicked over to each other, all exchanging unsure looks when the person blocking the way cleared his throat.

"You have to go," he said in a deep voice and Sam's mouth fell open while Steve's heart stopped.

"Wait, you're on our side?" Clint nervously ventured, but Bucky was only looking at Steve. And the Captain could tell there was a glimmer of his Bucky somewhere, deep down inside.

Bucky was about to respond when his whole body stiffened, his eyes rolled up in his sockets and he keeled over, unconscious. While the gang all stared, astonished, what they saw back in the elevator disturbed them more.

"You guys are so grounded," Tony said, holding a gun.

* * *

><p>"I'm so disappointed in all of you," the dark-haired man went on after they managed to escape, using the bodies they had knocked out for their uniforms, so they all escaped. Everybody stared down at the floor of the jet, which was soaring over the clouds and out of sight.<p>

"How'd you find out?" Sam ventured and Tony scoffed.

"Dude, once Hill asked me to watch Dancing With The Stars with her, I knew something was up. Then I found out my jet was missing. Tracked the coordinates, saw that it was in Budapest. Followed after you." He turned away from the windshield to glare again. His anger melted for a second when he said, "Glad you're okay, by the way, Romanoff." His glare turned back on as he lectured. "But why did Red Room kidnap you?"

Natasha turned away, pretending not to hear the question.

"Fine," grumbled Tony. "I guess I'll just add that to my To-Do list. First, we need to see why Darcy was attacked- Yes, she's at Stark Tower. Arrived when you guys started your joyride. Second, we need to set up everything for Fury. Uh-huh, he's coming too. Says he has something big coming with him. No idea what, but whatever. Third, we need to find out how this all ties together because that guy," he pointed at the back of the jet, where Bucky's unconscious body lay, "has a few answer we need."

"We're not going to question him yet," retorted Steve in a fierce voice.

Tony almost protested, but the softer side finally over came him. "Okay, not yet. Because he attacked Darcy and kidnapped Natasha and this is getting Fury's attention, so I want to know why. I also want to know why you two are fighting."

Natasha and Clint had been either glowering at each other or avoiding eye contact, so they were a bit surprised that Tony noticed, but of course he had. Everybody else saw, too.

"He shouldn't have come anyway," snapped Natasha, still stubborn about her own ideas.

Clint sneered inwardly. "Yeah, sorry for trying to save you."

The jet was silent the rest of the way. Natasha observed that Steve was sending her a small, assuring smile and she just had to smile back. And a revelation finally hit the redhead like a ton of bricks. But first, something needed to be done.

Time to do something she should have done months ago.

* * *

><p><strong>Pretty obvi what she'll do, but Romanogers buildup will happen in next couple of chaps, okay? Please stay tuned! -N<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

"Ow!" Steve rubbed the back of his head where Natasha had bonked the end of a rod into. The blond man stared furiously at the redheaded woman, who only shrugged and replied lightly, "Pay more attention next time."

"Uh huh," he muttered. It had been a month since they rescued Natasha and he wasn't in a very good mood. Once Fury arrived, he and some of his goons took the unconscious body of Bucky with them and were keeping him contained in one of the lower floors of Stark Tower. Tony had looked very sympathetic for a change when he told him that Steve couldn't see him since he was still knocked out cold and that seeing Steve could raise him to high alert. The Captain had felt down all this time.

Not to mention Darcy having to stay in Stark Tower. It wasn't her, really. It was just how she dragged herself out of bed, stomped around the kitchen and eating whatever she could, stealing all the hot water when she took a long, indulging shower and listening to extremely loud music that rang out the whole floor since she didn't know how to connect her headphones into there and Tony was too excited dancing along to the music anyway.

Idiots.

"You okay?" Natasha finally questioned when Steve brushed past her and plunked himself down on the steps to the training room exit. They did all this training everyday and had grown closer, but she was still holding some barriers against him, just like he was doing. His elbows were balanced on his knees and the stormy emotions mixing around in his eyes proved the answer to the question already.

"Yeah, fine," Steve lied and the redhead sauntered over and sat down beside him.

"Come on, Cap," she assured, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me."

"What about you?" he suddenly inquired, staring straight at her with searing blue eyes.

She looked the other way. "What about me?"

"You seem . . . normal."

"Normal?"

"Like, there's not a lot of fighting anymore and you're somewhat happier. Not like you're very happy, just that-" Natasha cut off his attempted cover up.

"Okay, yeah. So?"

"So did you and Clint have a big fight about the kidnapping-rescue-thing?" The blond Captain's voice was steady yet cautious.

"Oh, no. No big fight." When she saw Steve's big eyes pressing on unintentionally, she spat out in a bitter voice, "Mega fight, yes."

"Ohh, I'm-"

"Sorry? Don't be." She shrugged, her fiery curls bouncing. The man beside her still looked apologetic, but nodded.

"So, uh, did you guys . . . break up?"

"Yep," she answered bluntly, still looking away, focusing her green eyes somewhere else than Steve's handsome face that was killing her.

"Did he or-"

Maybe Natasha really didn't want to hear the end of the sentences, or she just liked interrupting all of a sudden. "We kind of broke up with each other," the redhead explained, recalling how she and the archer had yelled and shouted at each other for a while until Natasha responded back that she didn't want to see him again. Clint's eyes had been hurt, but he had straightened his shoulders coolly and nodded. It was all a blur from there and Natasha still felt the pain, but Clint was her past. She couldn't cling on to him anymore.

It was for the best, anyway. She and Clint were way too different. The spark they had in the past had died out completely now. It was kissing a guy you didn't know- Actually, when was the last time they had kissed? Natasha seriously couldn't remember.

She cleared her throat, ridding the dark thoughts. "So what about you? Need a hot date to cheer you up?"

Despite his dark mood, the man chuckled at her words and her eyebrows raised in amusement as well as a small smile quirking her lips. "No. No thank you. I really don't need a girlfriend right now."

"Why not? It might be good for you."

"Women aren't medicine you can just take when you're depressed. I want someone I can respect. Not some dame-" Natasha glared at his choice of word and he winced. "Sorry," he apologized for his so outdated slang. "Not some girl I won't be interested with after five minutes."

"I know you're not a big flirt, Rogers, but you could at least learn how to." The red haired woman was impressed by the wisdom of his words, but still liked to make fun of him by setting up dates he wasn't ever going to take.

Steve sighed, still not relenting. "What is so important about flirting? It's brief and meaningless."

"What are you waiting for then?"

Steve wheeled his head sideways to gaze directly into her eyes, navy blue orbs boring into emerald green ones. "The right partner," he murmured. Natasha attempted to ignore the chills that were shimmering down her spine and under her skin straight towards her heart, where they tugged right on the heartstrings and tilted her head forward as well involuntarily.

"And do you have any idea what you would like in the right partner?" she asked back. Their foreheads were almost touching and their eyes were never leaving each other. All her body was telling her to do was lean forward a few more inches.

"She would be strong and smart and brave."

"I guess I could find someone like that for you." Her breath was almost caught in her lungs, so it made talking difficult. She hoped the playing tone of her voice was masking her desire right now. A small, girlish fluttering erupted in her chest.

He smirked just a little and she was about dive in for the kill when the door swung open.

"Oh!" cried out Darcy, promptly jumping back a few steps to a halt and Steve and Natasha's heads whipped to the side in surprise. "So sorry! I was just going to ask if . . . Uh . . ."

Even though Darcy wasn't totally experienced with love and all that, she could still tell what she had walked in on. Good, at least one of them knew. Natasha felt warm and shaky and hadn't even recalled her scooting forward. It was almost instinct.

"Hey, Darce," she greeted flatly. "What's going on?"

"Just, uh, wondering. Can I go around the place, because I'm bored and these psychos keep demanding that I give them a license and all that crap."

"Sure, sure," Natasha nodded. "Go ahead. Just not across the hall."

She nodded with a contrite smile and fled the room and the redhead rose up to a standing position, finally realizing what had happened. "Okay, that was weird," she stated suspiciously. Steve looked up at her strangely, almost confused.

"What?" he replied.

"She asked if she could go around the place. Since when does she ever do that?"

Steve was too dazed by their previous proximity to answer properly. "So?" he mumbled lazily. "Don't act paranoid, Nat. She's just a kid."

"Yeah." She narrowed her jade green eyes at him. "Okay, enough about me," she said. "Let's go to you now."

"What about me?"

"Don't hide it, Rogers. You're worrying about him, aren't you?"

Steve was absolutely silent. After a few minutes, he mumbled out, "Yeah."

She pulled over one of the chairs lying across the side of the room and straddled it in front of him, chin on top of her hand. "Tell me," she commanded, voice softer than it should be but her heart always softened around Steve.

The blond man chuckled ruefully. "It's nothing, really, Nat."

"Tell. Me."

Steve gulped down the lump in his throat and focused his blue eyes on the floor, not bearing to look Natasha in the eye to view her smoldering gaze. "It's just that . . ." He trailed off for a moment. "When we went to rescue you and stuff- sorry for that again," he apologized, so obviously trying to go off topic by getting a long lecture, but she prodded for more. "He came into the elevator and I thought- No, I knew it was my Bucky, my best friend from 1945. It was just . . ."

"There," she finished.

"Yeah. And now, he's captured somewhere and I've no idea what to do."

Natasha bit her lip and Steve noticed the discomfort and raised another eyebrow.

"Natasha? Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

She had stood up and so did he, rising to tower over her. She scratched the back of her head. Damn, she was usually a better liar than this. "It's nothing, Rogers," she replied back in a strained voice. After a few minutes of Steve standing in front of her, arms crossed and glaring down, she relented. "The W- Bucky is not 'somewhere'. He's . . . here."

Steve didn't seem to get it and the redhead groaned. "In Stark Tower, doofus."

He blinked. "Okay." He shrugged.

Natasha was appalled. "You're not shocked by this? Seriously?"

"I've known for a while. The 'don't-you-go-down-there's from Stark, the overwhelming tension from Clint, Banner and Thor trying to keep me inside the living room," he listed with a tired sigh. "It's pretty obvious you're trying not to hurt my feelings, but really, Nat, I'm 95 years old. I'm not three. I can take care of myself."

"But you don't have to, Steve." When she said that, he knew she was being serious.

"I know, but what about you?" At the red haired woman's bewildered eyebrow raise and sitting down, he continued when he sat down beside her. "You keep everything boxed up, your past, your emotions, everything," he repeated. "And you won't even tell us why Red Room kidnapped you."

"I have absolutely no clue!" she exclaimed, throwing back the same, old, tired yet truthful excuse she had been using for the past month. "All they did was ask about people who had died years ago. I have no clue. And shouldn't we be focusing on Darcy? She was a direct hit. I was only abducted."

The Captain bowed his head. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that," she said. "You've got a point."

He smiled innocently. "I do, don't I?"

She pursed her lips. "Don't get cocky."

After a small pause, their stares grew squinty as they burst into laughter and she felt the blond male grab at her hand in a firm and reassuring squeeze and she briefly gave their interlocked hands a unfathomable look and when Steve caught this, he tugged his hand away, although Natasha really did not want him to.

"Sorry," he mumbled and he regretted the word once she rammed her shoulder against his in a dangerous bump. He would have apologized for saying 'Sorry', but that would have set out a chain link of shoulder slams. He then pulled out two water bottles from his bag and handed one to her with a courteous smile, which she only gave a fake sneer to.

"For you," he added.

Natasha shoved down a smile and maintained an unimpressed, bored look at the man beside her. "Oh, a water bottle? Wow, Cap, you shouldn't have. You can be such a gentleman at times."

"I'm a gentleman at all times," Steve corrected and tapped the top of his water bottle to hers. "And I probably saved your life."

"And why's that?" She looked doubtful.

"You're dozing off, meaning you're dehydrated, which would have killed you. You're welcome." He clinked their bottles together again with an innocent wink, which she must have taught him herself, and awarded her with a smile.

Natasha could have corrected him herself, but she didn't even have the energy to, maybe, no, totally because he looked so damn, damn, damn cute with that wink and smile. And she burst out laughing again, laughs that made tears bloom in her eyes.

She hadn't laughed like that for a long, long time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't own anything. Did I say Romanogers buildup or what? Kudos to _life is struggle _for predicting what would happen, but sorry, no fifty bucks to spare you. Anyway, action will resume in the next chapter, no worries and if you want some full out, no interfering Romanogers, go and read my new Romanogers fanfic, The Capwidow Diaries: Nothing Compares 2 U. And anyone who's read it already, thanks and please continue to review each little chapter.**

**Read and REVIEW this and THAT story, pretty please! **

**_NOW_.**


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy knew that Steve and Natasha said not to go down the hallway, but her curiosity got the better of her. As it always did. Seriously, Jane should keep her handcuffed to a pole or something.

So she travelled down the hallway, each footstep weighing her guilt down into a black hole of forgetfulness and she saw the crack of a slightly ajar door. She poked her head in and looked around. Coast was pretty much clear. Hard to see what all the fuss was-

Then she noticed the bodies on the floor. She bit her lip to hold back any sounds of alarm. There was no trace of blood. Good. She could see the tiny rise and fall of the two people's backs on the floor. Also good. The guy heaving out heavy breaths and suddenly waking up in an apparently another cold sweat and momentarily glancing at her before glaring straight at her with the most familiar set of blue eyes ever.

Not so good.

She froze in her tracks and didn't know whether to scream, run or to walk inside. She just kept staring at him. The Winter Soldier.

But something was different about him. If she looked closer, she could that there was a flicker of emotion glinting in those seemingly ice blue cold eyes of his. He looked . . . scared. Panicked. Bewildered. He looked like he was having a nightmare. She would if she had two bodies on the floor, really. Compassion struck her heart before she could stop it.

"Hi," she said softly and meekly. The Winter Soldier kept on looking at her.

And that was when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

* * *

><p>"He woke up a few days ago, but, Steve . . ." Natasha's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, staring with steady emerald green eyes at the frustrated Captain. He was boring his eyes into the ground of the training room, rubbing his bruised hands together from where the punching bag had marked his knuckles. All of the other Avengers sat in different spots of the room, watching Steve.<p>

"I know," he said back flatly, aware that everyone else's eyes were on him. "He's not Bucky anymore-"

"No, no, Steve. We never said that," Banner added in and Natasha shot him a grateful smile.

"Oh, really? Rumor has it is that he's been having nightmares." Steve looked slightly guilty.

"Oh, yeah?" Tony repeated. "Wouldn't everyone? Didn't you have nightmares when you stopped being a Capsicle, huh?"

Steve saw his point, but frowned at the Capsicle word use again. Natasha continued. "Yes, he's having nightmares, but it's because he's starting to remember you." Her face grew solemn as she didn't want to crush that faint glimmer of hope inside of Steve. "But he's also remembering _them_. He's being haunted by his own memories."

Everyone froze, knowing she was speaking of HYDRA, who had wiped Bucky's memory in the first place and trained him to be an emotionless assassin. Natasha then let a small, reassuring smile quirk the corners of her rosebud pink lips up. "But don't worry, Cap. You're not alone."

Steve couldn't bear to see his long lost best friend go through all that pain, because he remembered when he had nothing, he had Bucky. But darting his cerulean blue orbs around the room and taking in everyone -Tony, with his determined, cocky and sassy attitude along with his impish grin and evil yet dirty sense of humor, Banner's patience and incredible anger management issues, Thor with his great dauntless power and weird Shakespearan age English, Clint, despite being the ex boyfriend of the woman he cared about, and his great focus and snarky quips to shut Tony up, Sam, his amazing selflessness and lovable friendliness, and Maria, with her uber calmness to stay calm even in the most challenging situations. He knew he was going to be alright.

"She's right, Cap," Sam chuckled. "You're never going to be alone."

"Okay." He sunk down into a chair tiredly. "Not pressing anything, but is he okay? Like, are they doing anything to him?"

"Just some tests, Capsicle. No worries, I look over them. I will make sure they don't inject any large needles into his-"

"Shut up, Stark," snapped Clint before Natasha could say it. Over the past few days, they had gotten over their break up and mended an alliance for Steve's sake. Evidently, it was working.

"Trying to lighten the mood. Anyway, he remembers you, your name and stuff like that, but deeper memories -schooldays, birthday parties, double dates- those things haven't resurfaced yet."

"Okay," Steve slowly nodded, raking a hand through his golden hair. "And is he allowed to interact with society?"

"If you mean can you visit him," Banner translated the deeper meaning to the sentence and viewed apologetic. "The answer is not right now. Soon. But he still needs to recover."

"But I don't think any military guards should be taking care of him." The Captain scowled in brooding, thinking.

"Well, there aren't," Clint said slowly, and all of the other Avengers looked anywhere else but Steve. He grew suspicious.

"Then who is?"

Thor muttered out a name under his breath, but Steve caught it instantly and had to pick up his jaw off the floor. "_Darcy_?! You're sending _Darcy_ in to interact with Bucky? Do you know how this will _backfire_ in our faces?"

"Why? From what you have told me about him, Darcy seems to be his kind of girl," Sam told him.

"That's exactly the point! She's too . . ." Steve curled his fingers to himself, trying to grasp the right words from the air.

"Bubbly," the archer suggested.

"Fiery," the god of thunder said as well.

"Sassy and annoying," the scientist replied unsurely.

"Thank you!" Steve agreed with all of the above. "If I can't see him yet, are you sure Darcy won't just grate on his nerves and send him into . . ." He did the hand gesture again.

"Attack mode," Clint said bluntly.

"Yeah, that. I mean, he did attack her."

"Mm hmm. And he didn't kill her," Tony argued. "I take that as a good sign. Plus, we still have to figure out why Red Room's involved and such. So maybe Darcy will trigger the reason to him."

"Darcy is a good person," Thor defended his friend. "A pretty and friendly face. She's beautiful, compassionate, sweet and funny. A much better option then military guards, I assure you."

"She's got no military training," grumbled the golden haired Captain into the hand rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, please!" scoffed a voice behind them. They all wheeled in that direction to see Darcy leaning against the door frame. She had a ghastly wicked grin plastered across her face. "I've got a Taser."

A long pause and Steve suddenly flourished his hand in her direction. "This is why she can't go."

"Oh, come on! It's better than military guards beating him in with clubs."

"Okay, I guess-"

"Whoa, nobody said anything about clubs. Can I have one?" Darcy looked pretty hopeful, but it withered when Tony glared at her.

* * *

><p>"Okay, so remember: Be friendly. No smart ass quips. Don't make him feel uncomfortable. Gentle, not forceful. And please do not use the Taser on him unless it is an absolute emergency." Clint stressed out the last sentence, knowing that Darcy would have shocked Bucky to death if Bucky raised a hand to cover up a yawn. He could feel her shivering under her jacket as he debriefed her one last time.<p>

The black haired girl looked impatient. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she rolled her dark blue eyes. "Let's just get this show on the road already."

"You can't just rush in," the archer snapped back firmly.

"I have to make friendship. And I never made friends the slow way, Legolas." Darcy planted her hands on her hips and smirked. Clint just rolled his gray blue eyes himself and finished strapping on protective gear on her.

"Fine. I think you're all set, then." Clint decided to tease her, just to set her back on her feet. "And if he manages to kick your Taser away, scream like a little girl and I'll come running, 'kay?"

Darcy punched him in the arm, but there wasn't much force in it since all of it was drained into her scowl. "Whatever." She sucked in a deep breath in her mouth and picked up the tray of food in her hands. She looked down at it thoughtfully. "So, do I just strut in like some slutty nurse or do I put the tray down and say 'S'up?'?"

Clint shifted the quiver full of arrows back on his shoulder and Darcy wondered if that was a threatening gesture. It wasn't like she had just asked why had he and Natasha break up. "No. Act like yourself, but you have a point. No flirting, please."

"What if he flirts with _me_?"

Clint gave her a very doubtful look and his voice was laced with the same doubt. "He's a guy who's just got his memory back and is trying to get accustomed to the modern world. I don't think he's going to flirt with you just yet."

"Okaaaay. But you know, flirting is, like, a form of therapy or something. You should try it sometime- Wait, what do you mean 'just yet'?"

The archer rolled his eyes. Why did he get stuck babysitting? "Just go." He turned her by the shoulders and pushed her towards the door. Darcy swung it open and marched into the room.

"Hi there," she greeted, once again amazed at how strong and confident her voice sounded. At least the Winter- No, wait, Bucky, she reminded herself. Bucky had acquired a shirt and was now lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Darcy looked up herself just to see the boring plain white ceiling. He barely struck her a glance.

Let's try this again, she thought optimistically. "Brought you some food," she said, putting it down on the table next to him. He didn't look at it, either. Great, she was equal to a tray full of some actually good looking food. "So, what's your name?"

Through the security cameras, everyone face palmed. "This is worse than kindergarten," Tony grumbled, staring at the very dull interaction.

"Give her a chance," Clint rushed through his gritted teeth. Steve was looking very uncomfortable and Natasha was sitting right next to him, so she nudged his shoulder.

"Cap, if you don't want to do this-"

"It's fine. Really." He gave a tight smile.

"I could always call up Laura."

"It's Lillian, and no, thank you." The smile loosened and became genuine and that made Natasha smile a little as well. Thank God Clint had his back to them or his eyes would have narrowed suspiciously. Unfortunately, that was Banner's action right now.

"I'm Darcy," the black haired girl continued.

"I know," Bucky answered and everyone almost flinched.

"Yeah, so what's your name?" Darcy kept pressing on.

He hesitated. "Why does it matter?" he snapped.

"Because I don't know what to call you, Sunshine." The smart ass nickname was out before she could stop it. Everybody face palmed again. Bucky's head turned on its side to face her, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What did you call me?"

"See? Now that's why I need a name. Unless you want me to call you 'Hot Rod' or something like that."

"Did she hear any of my instructions?" Clint hit his forehead over and over again with the heel of his hand.

But the corner of Bucky's mouth oh so slightly twitched up before falling back down. Good, she was getting through. Ish. "It's Bucky," he whispered before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Yeah. Okay, do you mind if I take some of that?" Without bothering to hear an answer, probably since she knew she wasn't going to get one quick enough, Darcy plucked up the Pop Tart on the plate and bit into it, briefly savoring the blueberry flavor. Everyone looked horrified. She was taking his food. But Darcy, despite her attitude, knew exactly what she was doing and had decided to act natural and not play by Barton's rules. Playing something else wasn't her and it wasn't going to make a damn thing work anyway.

"You want some?" she asked kindly, breaking off a piece of frosted Pop Tart and offering it out to him. Bucky turned again and seemed to be inspecting the piece of food very, very carefully, as if to determined if it was poisoned or not. Rolling her eyes, she flicked him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow," was all he said before she took her opportunity and inserted the Pop Tart piece into his open mouth. His mouth closed on it and he glared at the black haired girl . . . until he started to chew it. He seemed to be liking it since he wasn't strangling her to death with his bare hands.

"There. See? Wasn't so bad."

Steve, meanwhile, shot Thor a murderous glare, his mouth leaning on a clenched fist. "Compassionate and friendly," he quipped. "Oh, yeah, right."

Thor just shrugged. "I cannot control a woman of that power."

"Look, I know it's hard to be adjusting to the modern world-" Darcy was beginning until the dark haired man across her cut her off.

"No, you don't," he interrupted in a low voice, not looking at her.

She paused, blinking. "You're right, actually. I don't. But maybe, if you open up a little, I can help you."

"I tried to kill you. Why are you trying to be friends with me?"

"But you didn't kill me. Why is that?"

He just shrugged.

"As for the friends thing, I'm not S.H.I.E.L.D. I've had a pretty bad history with them. I mean, they took my freaking iPod and didn't even bother to return it-"

"Excuse me, but what's an iPod?"

"Oh, it's this really cool, um, device that can play music."

"Music?"

"Yeah, wanna see?"

"No!" Clint cried out, slapping himself again. "She's supposed to be getting information, not having a dance party with him!"

"She's not an agent. Calm down, Legolas," Tony rolled his eyes.

Darcy pulled out her iPod and revealed the sparkly turquoise blue leopard printed device to him. "Now, see. If I press this button, it plays music. Sorry if I don't have '40s music, but any songs you remember? 'Cause I can download them for you."

"Huh?" Bucky was actually growing a bit warmer to this girl since she wasn't now constantly prodding about the winter Soldier stuff that everyone else seemed so interested in.

"Well, I go to this iTunes store and-"

"Why does everything have an 'i' in it?"

"You know, I don't really know." She shrugged. Suddenly, a hip hop song blasted through the speakers and Bucky looked down at the music player with more than faint distaste. Getting very much annoyed, he snatched it out of her hands and flung it across the room. Darcy was horror struck.

"You broke my iPod!" Darcy rushed over and picked it up, but then looked relieved. "Oh, no. Just scratched it. Now why the hell did you do that?"

"It was bugging me," grumbled Bucky, lying back down on the bed.

Despite the circumstances, Steve chuckled. That was so ironic, since Bucky was always forcing him into double dates where they would dance to the music he so hated listening to. Natasha glanced at him and decided that was the moment to grasp his hand. Steve looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled to himself.

Then he heard Sam clear his throat behind him and give a pointed stare at their hands underneath the table. Steve smiled wider.

It didn't matter. He wasn't alone as long as he had Nat by his side.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't own anything. How did you like this chapter? I did say there will be some Bucky x Darcy stuff. But no worries, some answers and Romanogers will come in next chapter. With a Castle like plotline. :) Thanks and see you next time! And go and read my other Romanogers stories, like Nothing Compares 2 U and Texts From the Cold War . . . And the part two version! :D -N**


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